


Mortal anguish

by Straj



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straj/pseuds/Straj





	Mortal anguish

Mick was sitting on the couch in my living room and thought. All really not seemed to him so perfect as it seemed in the past, although problems such as did not exist.  
Good job, good friends, good wife...  
Even the weather was great with its quietness and warmth, but...  
But Mick felt tired for a hundred years.

He didn't want to cause anyone problems, he always tried to live so that it was comfortable and well to avoid unnecessary problems with it.  
After all, most of all he was afraid that it would create unnecessary problems.  
But its lovingly crafted world, where was his favorite things and people he loved, was cracked. And it was not in the people around him, and it was in him.  
Mick couldn't decide what to do? To leave things as they are or try to destroy everything, to create something new.  
Although there was another exit, and Mick recently inclined to it — just to leave this world, leaving everything as it is, providing a comfortable existence for all friends and relatives.

The only thing that Mick could not figure out HOW to leave this world? To change the name and move somewhere else or just end the mortal existence once and for all?  
Even if Mick and moved anywhere, my friends would have and so would have found him, he had done it a couple of times, but it was found.  
Then there remained only one thing — to leave this world. But had to do it clean and tidy. Mick did not want to be found Snezhana. Poor girl's been through enough and if she finds his body... then she's gonna have a nervous breakdown. This can not be allowed.  
Moreover, it was impossible to find him friends, it is better to work colleagues or passers-by.

But there was one unsolved problem. Mick COULD NOT die. Just couldn't. He came back anyway.

— Mick!!! — burst into the room, cheerful Ben and the first thing grabbing the man by the neck.  
— What happened? — Mick awoke from his gloomy thoughts.  
— Nothing happened, - Ben sat there and patted the folder that brought with you, — I have best offer for you.  
— Yes? - not believe it Mick.  
— I want you I wrote the script, I'll be your producer. If you want to invite someone else as a collaborator?  
— Yes? — passively responded Mick.  
— What's wrong? — Ben looked at Mick`s, — you some slack...  
— I have a request for you — suddenly perked up Mick. He got up and went to my room.  
— Where are you going? — anxiously asked Ben.  
— Sit I now, — said Mick, disappearing in the hallway.

Ben had to wait long. Mick quickly returned. He brought a revolver with him.  
— You keep a gun in the house? — surprised Ben.  
— This is my office, though personal. Allowed me, — calmly replied Mick, thrusting it into the hands of Ben.  
— What do I do with it? — asked Ben.  
— Kill me, — Mick looked at Ben.  
—What?! — Ben gaped at his friend, - sorry, what do you want me to do?  
— I want you to kill me, — quietly said Mick. He had figured out every imaginable situation and chose an approximate version of future events.  
— I am not going to do, — Ben cautiously put the revolver on the coffee table, — I... I have no desire to kill you. You're my friend.  
— Why don't you want to kill me? — sometimes Mick was just boring.  
— Because I don't see the point of your death, — said Ben, sitting down beside Mick`s closer and trying to hug him, — you my friend. I love you very much.  
— You're not going to kill you? — said Mick.  
— No.  
— And if I will kill myself before your eyes?  
— You don't do it, — firmly said Ben, — and if you try to do it, then I would stop.  
— Then let's bother, — viciously laughed Mick, and seizing a revolver, held it up to his head.

Ben clutched one hand over the muzzle of the revolver, and the second — hand Mick`s.  
— Don't!!!

Mick tried to shoot himself, Ben tried to prevent.

Thirty minutes they silently fiddling on the couch, then fell on the floor.

There they swarmed, busy, wheezed, puffed and... suddenly a shot rang out.

After the shot was heard the sound of breaking glass, and then the door knock.  
Ben didn't understand how someone's strong arms set him on his feet.

— What are you doing?! — rocked someone's familiar voice.  
Ben turned around; behind it stood flustered and pale Sherlock.  
— Mick to stop trying to kill yourself — said Ben.  
— Mick? Is this true? — anxious grey eyes stared at Mick lying.  
— Maybe you'll kill me? — hopefully Mick asked, making no attempt to get up, — just shoot me in the heart, and then not aesthetically pleasing to scrape brains off the floor...  
— Wait a second, - Sherlock picked up the revolver and took it, then came back, picked up Mick`s from the floor and put him on the sofa, — what are you doing?

— I do not think I do not want to live, - said Mick, sitting between Sherlock and Ben, — I feel so bad.  
— You're crazy!!!? — Sherlock seemed startled, — I you brought, and you...  
— My world is crumbling! — furiously shouted Mick, — I don't know what's wrong with me, I do not understand what comes out. I love everybody, but I don't know how you treat me?! Maybe you all hate me?! — Mick jumped to his feet and now stood in front of the sofa, angry and furious. — Maybe you just want to get rid of me?! Maybe you like people public cleverly disguised as my friends, and they malign me in the margins of your society?! How do I know who you are? Maybe you need a walking vest to throw away as useless? While help is needed, as was better — fuck you!!!  
— Jesus, Mick!!! — screamed in unison Sherlock and Ben, — what are you talking about?  
— Do you want to kill me, I will kill himself, — suddenly said quietly to Mick and grabbed a knife to an ice pick, which rested on the coffee table, poked them in the chest. And Mick was dressed in worn breeches and black color shirt. On the t-shirt instantly appeared a bloodstain.  
— Hell!!! — Ben and Sherlock, not paying attention to the fact that they were dressed quite civilized, attacked the man and began to tear him a murder weapon.

Thirty minutes later, Mick`s was again laid on the sofa, the knife he had selected and thrown out, and Ben and Sherlock was crumpled and dusty.  
— He's hysterical, - concluded Sherlock, — something happened to him or any of his friends.  
— We need to stay with him, — said Ben, — while he is in this condition, I am afraid that just as we walk out the door, he will kill himself.  
— Of course. It will be cut and throw into the ocean.  
— Stay?  
— Yes.

Sherlock dragged Mick`s to the bath, and Ben began to make a warming and soothing drink.  
They both were busy with Mick until then, until he fell asleep, then went down to the kitchen to discuss the matter urgent.  
— What do you think? — asked Sherlock, sipping wine.  
— I think we need, — Ben took a bite of sandwich and looked at the tea leaves floating in his Cup, — to eat, take a shower, and then come to Mick and lie near him. Hug him from all sides, and let him know that we love him.  
—That'll do, — nodded Sherlock.

After some time, the house fell into a comfortable sleep. Sherlock and Ben were next to Mick, trapping him in a tangle of arms and legs, and slept peacefully. Slept and Mick, knowing now that his friends, at least those that really love him.


End file.
